Wonderland
by Second Militia
Summary: This place is like hell on earth and we're all forced to watch someone we love dearly be torn apart by some vicious psychopath... I guess we really do leave this world as we came in; terrified, screaming, and bloody.
1. Breathing

A cartoony bird danced across the screen, all the while smiling and flapping its' wings gleefully. He then turned to the side, beak lifted as he stood proudly; a wing gracefully swooping backwards as he presented a man, known as Crow, strapped to a metal chair. In front of him stood a massive slot machine and on the right of that was a short haired woman, wearing a white lab coat and black rimmed glasses.

An overwhelming feeling of dread formed as Ganta watched silently. The sound of his door sliding open briefly diverted his attention as a young woman entered. She had strong features: a defined jawline, thick brows, medium sized nose, with a septum piercing, and full lips. He recognized her from earlier, wandering the halls of G-block while he was hauled off to the Carnival Corpse.

"You might not want to watch this," she blurted out.

"Who," he was interrupted once the bird's happy voice chimed in.

"It's time for tonight's penalty game," the bird exclaimed. The lever was pulled and slots began rotating.

"What is this?"

"…Like he said, 'tonight's penalty game'."

Crow stared vacantly at the slot machine before giving an indication for the woman to stop. Gradually, the slots decelerated then came to a halt. There were three eye shaped icons with the text 'R. Eye' underneath. The metal chair straightened out, his body lay flat on the metal surface. Various tools were brought in. The woman crossed over to him, grinning menacingly with flushed cheeks as she chose one of the medical instruments. Additional straps were placed to restrain him and his lids were held open with a speculum.

_This place couldn't get any worse_, Ganta thought.

Those thoughts quickly dissipated as he watched, in absolute horror, Crow's right eye being plucked out and crimson red trails streaming down the right side of his face. The woman performing the procedure licked her lips, aroused by the sight. Ganta's squalls mixed with Crow's. His hands covered his mouth as he rushed to the bathroom; he fell to his knees, expelling bile in the toilet.

The young woman, who entered the room, followed him and released a sigh. She grabbed a roll of tissue from on top of the toilet, unraveling a decent amount, and then waited. More gagging, coughing, and sobbing echoed. She nudged him, handing him the tissue. Lightly he dabbed at the corners of his mouth, nose running, and tears streaming down his cheeks. Without warning, he jumped up, clinging to this random stranger. At first, she gave him a gawky pat on the shoulder, uncertain of what to do. Immediately, realizing she was out of her element. Releasing another sigh, and then imitating a half-hearted embrace. Ganta continued to sob, grabbing a fist full of her shirt, wrinkling the soft material.

"Nice…bathroom," she paused, realizing her comment was greatly inappropriate.

Ganta lifted his gaze to the female who laughed nervously, watching as she ruffled her dark violet pixie cut, with sapphire blue tips. The inept response caused him to smile a little; grateful of her quirky nature. He bowed his head apologetically, and then stared at her extended hand.

"Name's Jurai," she said. She grabbed his hand and gave it a firm shake.

"How long have you been here?"

"Five months."

An image appeared in his head of a woman with similar features, except she had curly shoulder length hair. The Carnival Corpse compilation he was forced to watch; a couple of them were from past battles she participated in. Though she appeared harmless, she was far from it. Jurai displayed agility, cunning, and erratic transitions in fighting styles. Ganta was tempted to inquire further, wondering whether or not she ever lost, but decided against it.

"Does it get better," he asked.

"No, it just gets harder," she smiled inwardly, exiting the bathroom without another word.

Ganta hurried out of the bathroom, expecting her standing outside the door, but instead was met with plain white walls, a twin high riser, and his prizes from winning the Carnival Corpse.

**Next Day**

A cheerful song began playing from the television, waking Ganta from his slumber. He rolled over in his twin sized bed, eyes glued to the fifteen inch screen as he watched in silence.

"Morning all," the cartoony bird exclaimed, wings flapping rapidly. "Another Carnival Corpse is scheduled for tonight!"

Unexpectedly, Ganta jumped up. He was fully alert and sitting on the edge of his bed, leaning forward. A few clips from his battle with Crow were displayed along with a brief summary declaring him the winner then a recap of last night's penalty game.

"Tonight will be a glorious skirmish between Falcon and Nighthawk." Beside the names were the pictures of the contestants. Falcon appeared to be a bald man, in his mid-thirties, with a platinum blonde goatee. His eyes were dark brown, brows thick and unruly. His opponent, on the other hand, was the woman from last night; Jurai, with her dark violet hair, staring vacantly at the camera. Her hazel orbs, with emerald green specks, glimmering.


	2. Heartbeats

A small fraction of him anticipated being in the upcoming Carnival Corpse, which roused him from his slumber. Frankly, he was relieved that he was not tonight's contestant and that brought on guilt. Intermission for him meant others would be forced to fight, that thought became unsettling when the truth sunk in. Ganta's brain hastily reviewed the events from last night; how this complete stranger practically barged into his room to warn him of the penalty game and how she comforted him. That guilt swelled incalculably. Ganta was culpable of his respite, deemed himself polluted by this _wonderland._ Tardily, this perdition will transmute him into something monstrous if he embraced its' methods. Finally, he surrendered, realizing that dreading on these thoughts would benefit no one. He stood from the bed with his arms stretched above his head, and then dropped down to his side as he sauntered over to the bathroom; whether he felt guilty or not, the day would progress.

After showering he felt renewed and virtuous. The negative thoughts dissipated once settling on the idea of preventing the Carnival Corpse. No doubt it would be an arduous feat, but he was compelled to try. Almost instinctively he searched for Crow. A squeal reverberated in the corridor as he made a sharp left, colliding into the very person he was seeking.

"Hey, Ganta," he smiled.

"Senji," Ganta exclaimed; his mood shifted once he saw the raven eye patch. "I'm sorry…"

Senji was baffled, but instantly realized what he was referring to. He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck before saying, "Just another day at the office, kid, don't beat yourself up over it."

"But, I can't help it," he muttered.

"Were you looking for something?"

"More like someone."

"Oh?"

"I met this strange girl last night. She had violet hair, with blue tips, and dark olive skin…she said her name was J-Jurai, yeah, Jurai!"

"I know her," he said nonchalantly.

"Really? Do you know where she might be right now?"

"Uh…sleeping? I guess."

"Sleeping…? It should be, at the very least, 11AM."

"Well, Jurai is _different._"

"Is she like nocturnal or something?"

"…Yes, I guess you can say that. Why are you looking for her?"

Ganta hesitated to respond. He cleared his throat before blurting out his idea. Immediately, he realized Senji seemed relatively concerned; worried even. Silence loomed over the duo as Senji simply rubbed the back of his neck, uncertain of what to say.

"What's wrong," Ganta inquired.

"We shouldn't get involved," he admitted.

"Why not?"

Senji paused then stated, "You may have good intentions, Ganta, but it could go badly for her. Just let it ride out, man. Jurai's stronger than you think; she's a survivor and wouldn't go down without a fight, you know."

"But, if we do nothing…" his voice trailed off, eyes settled on the cold hard floors. It seemed like the most humane thing to do, to stop the Carnival Corpse, but maybe Senji was right. After all, his plan wasn't fully fleshed out. Various inquiries formed in his brain as he debated whether to go along with his initial idea or not, but then was brought back to reality when he heard Senji release a sigh of defeat.

"I'm not promising anything, kid. We'll swing by her room, at the very least. Other than that, we shouldn't rush into anything without her say-so."

Ganta trailed behind Senji as they walked down a dimly lit corridor. He surveyed his surroundings, realizing that they've traveled deeper into the facility. There was a draft that made him shiver in response and the air seemed unbelievably thin. As they turned a corner, a high pitch squall echoed down the hall as a raven haired woman darted towards them. Her round face was flushed, tears streaming down her cheeks as she grabbed hold of Senji's arm.

"She won't wake up, I-I don't know what happened, I woke and came from my room to check on her," she sobbed.

Without hesitation Senji charged toward the room, entering once the door slid open, and then crossed over to the motionless heap wrapped in lily white sheets on top the twin sized bed. Cautiously, he turned the female over. Her hair was damp from some liquid and skin matted with the same teal substance.

"How long has she been like this," Ganta asked.

"I don't know! I don't…"

Senji unraveled the sheets, exposing Jurai fully. She was wearing a black sleeveless compression top and matching knee length shorts, with white vertical stripes on each side. The collar that adorns every inmate's neck was missing. Without much effort, he lifted her, speedily making his way over to the bathroom. He extended his right arm and adjusted the knob then stepped into the bathtub as cold water rained down on them. He lightly tapped at her cheek, attempting to wake her, but it seemed futile. Hesitant, but knowing the severity of the situation, he drew back his hand then slapped her with full force, leaving her cheek ruby red. Jurai's eyes fluttered open as she gasped for air, revived from the blow. She lifted a hand; finger tips pressed against her cheek and revealed an unsightly large lump on her forearm, which had an ominous red glow.

"Oh thank god," the raven haired female said as she dropped down to her knees. Ganta placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing firmly, and in response she held his hand and nodded in thanks.

One step at a time, Senji thought. He inched out of the bathtub, Jurai's arm slung around his neck. Her knees buckled from slight movements. Colorful streams drained out of the tub as the hair rinse the female used washed out. Natural light copper brown hair matted against the left side of her face and the back of her neck, while the other side of her head was completely shaved. She shifted her attention to the lump on her arm, eyes wide.

"I can feel it throbbing," she mumbled.

"What is it," Senji inquired. The tips of his fingers pressed ever so gently against the lump, causing pain to ripple throughout her body. He caught her and set her on the floor. Then it hit him, this was their new way of maintaining control over them.

"What happened? What's the matter," Ganta cried out. He was caught off guard when he heard Jurai's laughter substituting cries of pain.

Gradually, the pain subsided, heartbeat returning to a normal pace, and muscles slackening. The inquiries began to pour in as they attempted to unearth what occurred last night. Everything was a blur to Jurai, even now. She recalled entering Ganta's room, warning him about the penalty game, and her sad attempt to comfort him. Then, there was the moment she exited the bathroom; conflicted on whether to remain or leave, since she was, in essence, an uninvited guest. Her conscience told her to leave, though an unsettling feeling formed in the pit of her stomach, possibly warning her. Jurai told them she exited the room and was intent on meeting Senji to work out at the gym; knowing full well he would be there, penalty game or not. Even though she was a bit sidetracked because she took a trip to her room, she remembered standing in the center of her room, clothed in her gym attire and nothing afterwards. There were brief lucid moments where the dreams, she thought she was having, were in fact actual events, but it seemed ridiculous…until now.

"It was cold," she said. "I remember seeing several people in this strange room, all wearing lab coats."

"Jurai," the raven haired woman said, "how long has this been going on?"

"I think a couple of weeks after you came here, Ally."

Silence descended on the group as everyone absorbed this information. Jurai lifted her arm in the air and inspected the lump, almost mesmerized by the ruddiness. She brushed the tips of her fingers against it, wincing. As Ganta watched, all he could think of was the last thing that was said before Jurai's vanishing act.

_Does it get better?_

_ No, it just gets harder…_


	3. Killer Within Me

Each second was against them, Ganta thought. Three hours ago he spoke to Jurai, briefly about his plan to escape Deadman Wonderland. Apprehensively, she considered the idea of leaving this prison; mulling over the details until she suffered a migraine. Nonchalantly, she laughed it off. Without further deliberation she settled on the idea of going along with his plan. Ganta watched Jurai's actions intently; how she made light of their circumstance. Although her outer shell appeared almost impenetrable, he could sense an overwhelming dread; unmentionable horrors she dared not speak of, the possible repercussions for attempting to escape. He observed her slightest movements as she privately spoke with Senji in the hallway; the way she casually leaned against the wall, her arms promptly folded over her chest and her head cocked at an angle. There was a glimmer of something, though he was uncertain of what, between the two. Jurai gave Senji a playful punch on the shoulder, winking as she smiled warmly. It was only three hours ago, Ganta's conscience reiterated, how could the plan go awry in such a short period of time?

All of Jurai's worldly possessions were cleared out. The twin sized bed, which was placed on the far right, was absent. On the left of that was the wooden dresser with a lamp. Ally feverishly searched every corner, as if expecting Jurai to be safely tucked in a small crevice of the room. Ganta watched her silently as she paced from one end of the room to the other, hungrily chewing at her nails; her conscience squalled in innumerable volumes. With an arm outstretched, he advanced over to the female who stiffly wedged herself in a crook of the room. She lifted her gaze to meet his, a pained expression plastered on her visage.

"You think they skipped out on the Carnival Corpse," she began. "Would they ever go straight to the penalty game? Did they figure it out, maybe overheard us talking…?"

Before he could respond, the bright monitor, embedded in the plain white walls, revealed itself. An ominous glow shined brightly on the duo as their eyes remained glued on the twenty inch screen. The announcer's voice boomed as he gave detail about the Carnival Corpse currently in progress. Ganta's eyes widen in horror as he stood beside Ally, trembling at the scenes. The matchup that was announced earlier became slightly more interesting. As the camera panned out from Jurai's bruised and panting form, two opponents became visible to all viewers; Falcon was one of them, along with an unknown contender.

"Two against one," Ally muttered. "How despicable could they be?"

"This place is hell," Ganta added.

Ally's gaze was transfixed on Ganta, catching a glimpse of somebody she knew; no, not just any person, her younger brother Joshua. The longer she stared at him, the more he appeared to be a spitting image of him. The thought of anyone so young being claimed by this hellhole finally dawned on her. It was a disgusting thought to think this young boy was here, especially since he did not seem the 'type' to massacre an entire class. This was all a game, one they might lose if the right moves are not taken. If neither of them acted, then all hope would be lost. Hope, the possibility of grasping freedom was all they had. Without warning, she grabbed his arm and broke into a full sprint, dragging Ganta along.

"What are you doing," he squeaked, but was ignored as she made a sharp right down a dark hallway.

She released his arm as she darted further down to a dead end, effortlessly scaling up the wall. Her upper body leaned forward as her feet were well planted against opposite walls, nails dug underneath the vent cover as she pried it out of the wall. Ally climbed inside, adjusting herself so that she was able to poke her head out.

"Come on, we got to hurry."

Her body hung halfway out of the vent, arms fully extended as Ganta jumped up a couple of times in order to reach her hands. After a few failed attempts, she leaned forward more, ankles bent at an angle as her feet remained at the edges of the vent. Ganta leapt once more, making contact with her hands. Pulling him up was a difficult feat, her visage was flushed from the act of being upside down and her attempt to use what upper body strength she had.

"I will not fuck up," Ally muttered to herself, eyelids squeezed together as small droplets escaped. "I will not leave you! Not again!"

**The Arena**

Jurai slammed roughly against the transparent walls of the arena, pain rippling throughout her body as a thick tendril slammed against her abdomen. She couldn't breathe properly. Dropping down to her knees, an arm crossed over her stomach as she glared in defiance.

"This little girl thinks she can win," the unknown man taunted.

"If it was a _fair_ fight, maybe, but I guess the odds are against her. Such a well formed little thing, too bad it'll be her last night in Wonderland." He darted towards her, razor sharp wing tips slashing horizontally.

Boldly catching the wing between her hands, suffering several cuts in the process, and then was quickly brought down when a thick tendril reached out and collided into her forehead. The force pushed her head backwards, slamming roughly against the transparent wall. There was an awful ringing and her vision was impaired from blood getting in her eye.

"How cute, she's still fighting back," Falcon chuckled, withdrawing his wings as he cupped her chin. "I'll go easy on you if you submit to me, girl. You don't _have_ to perish tonight."

"If I bow my head and respond with 'aye sir' or call you 'master' will I get vacation days to? Goody, oh happy day, I'm saved," she said.

"Are you mocking me?"

"If you're going to kill me, then do it. Otherwise," she paused as another tendril stretched out, ready to inflict another blow, but caught it in her left hand. "You'll regret it."

Jurai needed all of her bravado coupled with a partner and a miracle. She managed to slip from Falcon's clammy grasp and dodged incoming tendril after another. Pristine white tiles were tainted by crimson red streaks as she tumbled and dashed across the arena, wincing from basic movements that ensured her survival. Everything ached. One of her main concerns became her overall plan. How will she triumph? Deep contemplation during battle proved unbeneficial as a tendril roped around her right leg, harshly yanking it. She flung forward, the side of her face colliding into the hard tiles as blood shot from her mouth. Footsteps echoed loudly in her ears as everything slowed down. This was her fault, she was well aware of that. Whether she agreed with Ganta's plan or did not, it wouldn't have mattered. The promoter was a sadist and couldn't pass up the opportunity of torturing her, viewing her pain live. Her willpower was shot as she recalled being homeschooled and harassed nonstop. Despite her physical strengths, mentally she was not strong enough to fend for herself. At this very moment she felt like history was to repeat itself. That little voice in her head mentioned she could never escape him, a man of such power. Encountering him once in her past sealed her fate. Now, she was in his clutches and forced to follow his rules.

A high pitch squeal echoed along with hands pounding against glass. Jurai's eyes fluttered open as she caught glimpse of Ally and Ganta screaming for her to stand. With the two of them standing together, it seemed like déjà vu. There was a scene that played out in her mind of a summer evening she spent with Joshua and Ally. Ally's parents thought some time away from the city would be best, considering the messages Jurai was receiving from some anonymous individual over the internet. She was free of the burden, for a time. That summer served as a distraction from her problems.

With her willpower restored she stood tall, prepared to fight until her last breath. The back of her hand pressed against her forehead, dragging it diagonally across her face and smearing the sticky crimson substance. The sound of a latch opening briefly caught all three of the contenders' attention as two guards forcefully threw Ally inside, while the others restrained Ganta.

"You desperately wanted to be inside, Alessandra," a voice boomed, "in you go."

Ally stumbled, eyes wide in horror as she fell to her knees. These men appeared more menacing since she was trapped with them. The confidence she had dwindled with each second and she loathed the possible outcome of this fight. She could hear them, judging her and plotting her demise; how they wanted to _toy_ with her, and then finish their game with Jurai. Ally muttered the word 'sorry' several times, until she felt Jurai positioned behind her. Dark olive skin stained with crimson red as Jurai leaned forward, tentatively drawing Ally into an embrace.

"I'm right here," she whispered. "Thank you, for coming."

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to help," she sobbed.

Jurai smiled warmly, despite the pain; her eyes drifted over to the large tree on the far left of the arena as Ally released her pint up breath. Without further dialogue, Ally dashed towards the tree at lightning speed, weaving passed incoming tendrils that expelled from the unknown man's body. Jurai trailed behind her, blood from her left arm transforming into a moderate sized shield as she spun around and blocked his attacks.

"Just a few more feet," Ally muttered.

"If need be go faster, I got this!"

Ally nodded in response. Instantly, she reached the tree and clambered up the massive trunk, then threw herself onto one of the branches. She took out a small razor, slashing the back of her arm, creating a Chinese crossbow with her blood.

The unknown man leapt, tendril seeking out the raven haired female, but failed when Jurai formed a long sword in her right hand, slicing through the thick stem. Another tendril shot forth as she blocked it with the shield, being propelled backwards from the blow. Back flipping and landing seamlessly as her shield and sword dispersed; the blood formed around her hands as clawed shaped gauntlets. Falcon lunged at the short haired female, missing completely as she performed a handless cartwheel to avoid the incoming attack. Jurai ducked down, left leg fully extended as she spun a full forty-five degrees clockwise, calf colliding into the back of his ankle and toppling him over.

A blood formed arrow pierced his cranium before reaching the floor. Another shot pierced through the unknown man's arm, causing him to howl in pain. One of his tendrils stretched out, crashing against the branch Ally was stationed, causing her to lose her balance and fall. Jurai darted over to her falling companion; her arms outstretched as she slid across the blood stained floors and caught her. He sent forth several tendrils at the females, forcing them to separate as they rolled in opposite directions in unison. They were startlingly synched, so much that it appeared as if they were one being. Jurai tumbled forward, closing the distance between herself and their attacker. Her right arm thrust forward as she threw a punch that was a couple of inches off; as if she was in desperate need of calibration. The man cackled in response, a tendril coiled around her arm and twisting harshly. Ally fired several arrows, which drained her considerably. Alas, he was able to deflect them.

Finally, his jaw dropped as he felt a searing pain in his chest, eyes widen in disbelief. Jurai was a blur, though her arm still bound by his tendril. His gaze dropped to the woman's hand plunged in his thorax, gauntlet covered hand gripping his innards. The tendril's grip slackened as he dropped to the floor, gasping. Jurai fell down to her knees, head hung and eyelids descended. Her left arm pulsated immensely as she drifted in and out of consciousness; her opponents heart crushed in her fist formed hand.


	4. Madhouse

**Altered Past**

The sound of hardware crashing against wooden tiles reeled her back. Muscles stiffen as she felt his breath against her skin; his body inching towards her. Train of thought brought to a complete halt as she took a step back, but failed to gain more distance as she felt her back pressed against the wall. The male in front of her hastily closed the distance, firmly grabbing hold of her arm and planting a kiss on her full lips. She shifted uncomfortably, gently pressing her forearm against his chest and giving him a shove.

"Don't be like that," the man cooed.

"I," she was interrupted with another kiss. Feeling his thin boned body pressed against her heavier frame and his tongue thrusting into her mouth. This felt wrong, she thought before pushing him away.

"I thought we were friends," he whined.

_This was designed_, her conscience exclaimed, _wake up_!

She attempted to reason with him, but failed miserably when he pinned her down on the desk knocking several CDs and controllers off. His tongue lapped against the length of her neck as she turned her head, positioning herself so that her knee pressed against his chest. Without hesitation, she pushed him off with full force.

_Don't you see it's another way to die? Toying with your past as if he owns you…snap the hell out of it!_

"Stop it!" The female bellowed. "Just stop, I said no!"

"You're such a bitch," the man sputtered, grabbing a fist full of curly hair as he violently yanked her head back. "Stop fucking with my head," he added. "This isn't your game anymore!"

"Ouch," she howled, "Aki, you're hurting me!"

_Don't shun me; I am you,_ the voice whispered.

He gripped her chin, red imprints created from the force applied. A blanket of silence descended on them as he inspected her. Small teardrops descended her cheek as she muttered an apology. His grip slackened as he released her hair, exhaling deeply as he ruffled his shaggy dark brown hair.

"Then, make it up to me."

_Wake up, _her conscience boomed.

**Present Day**

Blinding light forced her to close her eyes once more as she shifted uncomfortably in the hospital bed. Well-toned body ached from slight movements. A raven brace covered her forearm and the back of her cranium was stitched up. The Carnival Corpse was over and she was the victor. Hazel optics surveyed the room as she caught glimpse of various flowers and miscellaneous prizes positioned several feet to the right. Tardily, she turned to her left. Eyes widening as she saw the promoter standing at the entrance.

"I knew you would succeed," he said with a smile plastered on his visage. "You never cease to impress me."

"Why are you here?!" She snapped. Jurai pressed the palm of her hand against her neck as a stabbing pain formed.

"I wanted to check on you, Jurai. That's what _friends_ are for." He said, while advancing to her.

"Bullshit! When were you ever a friend?! You put me here!"

"I would never do such a horrid thing," he said calmly. "I swear on my mother's grave."

"You didn't give a shit about her, nor did you about me!"

"What do you mean, Juju? How could I—," he hastily jumped away, bewildered by the unexpected attempt on his life.

The female tore out the IV line, blood trickling down her forearm then forming into a worn dagger. She shuddered immensely, eyes filled with a mixture of defiance and unquestionable fear. This is the wrong response, he thought.

Guards quickly restrained the female as she struggled to break free of their grasps. Blood created dagger dissolving. He cleared his throat, grateful that her injuries left her less nimble and hampered the timing of her strike tremendously. Tamaki adjusted his tie and smoothed out the wrinkles of his shirt, plastering a sly grin on his visage as Jurai was strapped down.

A woman with golden locks, placed in a loose ponytail, entered the room; releasing a sigh as she crossed over to the bed, her heels clicking against tiled floors. She withdrew a syringe from her pocket, removing the protective cap, tapping the side a couple of times then pressed the plunger gently, allowing a small fraction of the liquid to spurt, before injecting a large dosage into the female's leg. She was forced to jump back as Jurai squirmed and freed her left leg from her restraints. The guards kept her pinned down as she swore, voice filled with malice and a slight hint of confusion. After some time of resistance, she was mollified. Her breathing slowed, eyelids becoming heavy as she turned her head to the side.

"Whoa ho-ho," Tamaki said. "That kick could have taken your head off, Ortega."

"Glad you have my well-being in thought; though it seems you're gambling with it…but, that is beside the point. What brought on this outburst?"

"Outburst?"

"Jurai Faure did not seem pleased by your presence, to say the least."

"I haven't the faintest clue," he said while shrugging. His gaze shifted over to the pacified female, who gradually lost consciousness.

"Mind if I have a chat with her when she wakes, sir?"

Briefly, he paused before responding with, "Three guards will remain present."

"Typically, she's rather docile," Ortega began as she thumbed through Jurai's file. "After questioning her companion, Inmate 5872," her gaze shifted over to the promoter who hastily shook his head in protest.

"Inmate 5872?"

"Alessandra Faure, sir. She expressed to me that her sister has always been quite…odd, though far from violent."

"She was never one to lash out without being provoked," he muttered.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing…if you wish to take more notes and get her on the right track be my guest. Even though the fans will be greatly disappointed by her absence, getting her back to one hundred percent seems the best route. Also, find a way to eliminate her aggressive behavior."

"…Yes, sir."

_It's another way to die_, a strained voice said as everything went to black.

**Two Years after the Red Hole Incident**

The police department seemed more busy than usual. Several car thefts, four muggings, three rapes, twelve murders, and the list went on. Hazel optics surveyed the lobby intently, watching as two police officers hauled in another gang member within the area; kicking over a chair and swearing as he was practically dragged off to a cell. She winced after arching a brow, applying the icepack on the left side of her bruised visage. Beside her sat Serge Faure, her adoptive father.

"Are you okay, sweetie," he cooed, ruffling her shaggy hair.

She nodded in response, chuckling as she continued icing her face.

"You're one tough cookie, Jurai. Any other girl would have been petrified."

"Yet, here I am. Smiling…I think you've rubbed off on me."

"Heh, looking on the up-and-up I see?" He said, lifting her bang to inspect the large lump on her forehead. He smiled weakly; his daughter suffered a concussion and would dread the idea of relinquishing slumber time.

"It's fine, dah," she blurted. "I'm not a little girl anymore, I can handle it."

A sigh escaped his lips as he shook his head, ready to protest, but was interrupted when an older officer called them.

"Finally," he said with a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry; I don't mean to come off rude."

"No worries, I understand where you're comin' from. I'd be equally impatient if it were my little girl." The officer said before leading them to his desk, insisting the duo take a seat and offering them beverages.

"No thank you, I just want to find the guys who," Serge paused as he firmly squeezed his daughter's shoulder, "I'm sorry I wasn't there, I should have paid more attention, considering the crime rates."

"It's not your fault, who could have known?"

"Um, miss," the officer paused, uncertain of her name.

"Just call me Jurai," she said plainly.

"Uh…okay. Jurai, could you describe these men to me?"

Jurai explained how one of the men was approximately her height, but had a heavier build and a lighter complexion. He had a diagonal scar on his visage, from the upper left to the lower right. Then, she proceeded to describe his clothing; how he wore faded jeans, a heavy navy sweater, and construction boots. His comrade, or partner in crime, was four inches taller than her and slender with the same complexion as her. His skin was flawless and he wore the same attire as the first man.

"Uh-huh, okay. Any other details you would like to add?"

"They smashed a perfectly good computer," she mumbled while frowning as she unzipped her bag, revealing a sleek black and crimson laptop. The screen was cracked and partially detached, only the wiring clung for dear life.

"I could see why that would be bothersome. I'm sorry to hear that." He paused briefly, clearing his throat before adding, "Do you have any idea why these men would target you?"

Jurai gaze lifted from the destroyed laptop as she shook her head. Afterwards, she excused herself, stating how she was famished. She stood from her seat, crossing over to the opposite side where a large vending machine stood. Making several selections of sweets and hastily stuffing half of her selections in her bag before leaving the heavily populated area. As she began heading back, she caught glimpse of a much younger police officer grabbing his head in frustration and swearing under his breath. Without invitation, she entered his cubicle, releasing a sigh of relief as she carelessly plopped in a chair a few inches next to him.

"What the," he paused, startled by the sudden intrusion. "I…I have work to do. I'm pretty sure the other officers can assist you."

Jurai tossed two bags of potato chips on his desk, along with a small packet of candy. "You seemed rather stressed, just wanted to take a load off."

"Uh, thanks? I guess."

"No problem, dude."

He continued filing reports, occasionally glancing back at the shaggy haired individual then continued thumbing through pages as he released a groan of displeasure.

"This is so boring!"

"Stuck with the grunt work while they get all the action?"

"Yeah, man. I'm tired of this. I want to be out there…you know, helping."

"How much more do you have?"

"Don't get me started," his head tilted back as he leaned further in his chair. Left arm extended as he grabbed a bag of chips supplied by his new buddy. "These are pretty good."

"Yep," she replied.

"Thanks, man."

"No problem. Everyone needs a moment for themselves."

"Ah, there you are," the older officer exclaimed as his attention shifted to the police officer then Jurai. "Oh, seems like you made a friend, Senji. Though, her dad was worried. We figured you wandered off someplace."

"Was working on the reports you gave me…wait…_**her**__?_"

Jurai gave a half-hearted smile as she tilted her head to the side, inserting a chip in her mouth. Instantaneously, Senji's visage became ten shades of red, jumping to his feet and bowing his head apologetically.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know…I mean…"

"Officer Kiyomasa?"

"H-how did you know my-"

"It's on your badge," she whispered. "Uh, thanks for entertaining me, I apologize for distracting you from your work, sir." She shook his hand, bemused by how clammy it was.

**Present Day**

"You're interrogating me," Jurai snapped.

"…No, I'm just trying to get a better understanding of what happened." The doctor crossed her legs, resting the notepad on her thigh. As if she concealed telepathic abilities she said, "You're really not here for this are you?"

"What gave it away?"

Silence settled in, creating an awkward atmosphere. The doctor glanced over her shoulder, briefly making eye contact with the two guards standing a couple of feet away from her chair, and then gestured for them to exit the room.

"The director gave us specific orders not to leave your side, ma'am."

"Well, I managed to convince you to bring only two of your personnel, didn't I? We could bend the rules a bit more, can we?"

More silence as the guard and his companion desperately searched for the correct response then was hastily shooed out of the room.

"Five minutes," the doctor stated, "I promise no more than that."

"Do you treat all of your patients with such _tenderness_, Mrs. Ortega," Jurai inquired. Ortega crossed over to her seat and dragged it closer to the female inmate, catching her off guard. "The hell—have you ever heard of personal space?"

"Snippy, are we," Ortega began, "How does one girl manage to create one hell of a shit storm in such a small period of time? I've seen your file, some things don't add up."

"Now we're getting somewhere. Finally, instead of beating around the bush and asking me about my day you're getting to the grisly details of what happened? Well, sorry to disappoint you, princess, but from what I'm told a huge chunk of my life is a mystery to me."

"Tamaki wants to throw you in another section of G-ward; you have a lot of enemies there."

"If those in power are my enemies, then I'm simply not safe anywhere."

"Touché, though you could spare yourself…be able to interact with the friends you've made in this place."

"Friends?"

"…Yes, apparently you have comrades in here. Jesus, if it weren't for the blow to the head I would have thought you naturally had a few screws loose. You remember Alessandra, correct?" Ortega observed the puzzled expression plastered on Jurai's visage. Gently pressing the tips of her fingers against her temples and massaging. "This isn't working," she sighed.

"No, I know who she is."

"Thank god. I couldn't handle another day of trying to jog your memory," she exclaimed, arms thrown up in the air in a celebratory fashion. Her arms descended once realizing Jurai's bemused expression. "Tell me the last few details of the Carnival Corpse."

"I won and was taken to the infirmary."

"Do you remember who was there?"

"Those participating, of course."

"Besides your opponent, can you recall any other person who might have been there?"

"Not really…what's the importance of this?"

"The promoter was not pleased with an earlier incident, which occurred before your Carnival Corpse. From security feeds, he got the impression that you might have been plotting some sort of rebellion. Though, it seems completely out of character, especially for you…then again, after the Corpse you haven't been yourself."

"Must have been the blow to the good ol' noggin, huh?"

Ortega stood from her seat, shaking her head in disproval. "Smarten up before your witty tongue gets you killed."

"The Carnival Corpse will get me killed."

"You're safe for a couple of weeks, at least until you're in top shape. Once you recover that memory of yours you'll be thrown back into the fray."

"What do you want me to say? I don't remember anything prior to the Corpse, lady!"

"Lie, Jurai. Don't be a fool and allow yourself to be thrown in that section of G-ward."

**Two Hours Later**

"This will be your new living quarters," one of the guards said before shoving the female across the threshold.

This section of G-ward was much darker than where she previously was contained. There was an ominous chill in the air as the guard chuckled. Jurai turned to face the path before her, catching glimpse of several inmates with wolfish grins. Among them was a towering man. His body masterfully sculpted from devoting his time in the gym. Gently, she pressed the palm of her hand against her chest and felt her heart come to a complete halt. Memories began seeping out of her unconscious.

"It's been awhile," he said.

"Could have gone longer," she replied under her breath. "I didn't know you were still here, Ivan."

"Expected me to crawl under a rock and die? I don't think so. The last Corpse you won through sheer luck, bitch! Here, the rules don't apply. Luckily for me, the promoter must have gotten over his raging hard-on for you and threw you to the dogs."

Something resonated from the depths of her being as she trembled at the sight of this man.

_What aren't I remembering_; she pondered but was incapable of pinpointing him to one specific memory.

"Ain't this one happy reunion, fellas? The traitor has returned."


	5. Bird with the Broken Wing

Ganta forced back tears as he hastily blurted out his apologies to the female. He summarized the events that took place a couple of days ago then inquired about the extent of Jurai's memory loss. Fist formed hands placed at his sides as he trembled immensely. Muddled thoughts filled his head as a puzzled expression plastered itself on the female's visage. In her current state she was incapable of retrieving what resulted in tonight's assault. Guilty by default since his desires outweighed the safety of many. All he ever hoped for was to be freed of his perdition. Now, he pleaded for the woman before him to forgive him. Jurai listened intently as the youth apologized several times because of a half concocted escape plan. Finally, a sigh escaped her lips as she shook her head in protest and raised her arm, which was encased in an orthopedic cast, from underneath the navy blue blankets.

"I don't understand what's going on," she admitted meekly, catching the youth off guard. She leaned against the cushion positioned upright. Silence descended as she grabbed her head in pain, smallest of details seeping out of her unconscious; this colossal migraine originated at the base of her cranium. Images flashing through her head at light speed. Again, she was incapable of pinpointing a single memory to this young boy standing beside her hospital bed.

Ganta extended an arm, planting his hand on Jurai's shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Overall her appearance remained the same, minus an additional bruise or two, but her deportment was altered. The woman he met a few nights ago, who participated in the recent Carnival Corpse, dissipated. Those hazel optics were identical, but lacked its natural gleam. This Jurai was riddled with confusion and uncertainty. Every thought became a jumbled heap of information. Finally she sunk down in her warm blankets, the soft fabric concealing her entirely.

"I'm sorry," her voice splintered, "I need rest."

A haunting voice reiterated the name _Joshua_… it was all in her head.

The doctor crossed over to the other side of the room, inspecting the slumbering patient. Ortega placed down the chart resting in her arms on the edge of the nightstand located on the right side of the bed, attention shifting over to the monitors. She gathered her hair into a loose ponytail using a medium sized clip. On the nightstand was a small black remote. Ortega picked it up and pushed the red button, turning on the television in the room. A dancing bird happily hopped across the screen as she pulled up a chair beside Jurai's bed, giving her a light tap on the shoulder to rouse her from her slumber.

"Wakey, wakey," she cooed, but was ignored. Once more, Ortega tapped the slumbering patient with more force and purposely hitting the injured party's arm.

"What the hell, Ortega!" Jurai's buried her arm underneath the soft blankets.

"Oh, what a coincidence, you're up," Ortega chimed with a smile.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"Your performance was marvelous, by the way. You did a great job shooing Ganta Igarashi away."

Jurai paused, arching a brow before blurting out, "It wasn't an _act._"

"Well, if I were you I'd try to remember quickly. If you want to be any use to your friends, I'd work on recovering that memory. The longer you take the more restless the crowd becomes." Ortega turned her attention to the monitor, the soft glow illuminating the room. She raised the volume of the television and was greeted with the announcer's cheerful voice welcoming the viewers to another Carnival Corpse.

The voices in her head intensified. Questioning who could possibly be participating in this Carnival Corpse and why so soon. As the voices calmed, her conscience whimpered the name _Ganta._

"They prepped him about an hour ago," Ortega added, "while you were resting in your cozy hospital bed."

The female patient slid the blankets off her aching body, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and hastily standing. This caused her to feel lightheaded from her rapid movement. Jurai leaned against the wall and released a soft groan as the migraine crept back, and to the fact that she was leaning against the wall with her left arm.

"Jesus, Rai, you're acting like a helpless calf. What did you think would happen if you jumped up like that?" Ortega chuckled as she watched Jurai inch over to the door.

Once exiting the room, Jurai released her pint up breath, the back of her head resting on the wall. A faint cry echoed in the fissures of her shattered mind. Their hands banged against the glass that encased the arena as they attempted to uplift her from her defeated state. She could hear their cries for her to stand once more, the sound of their pleas and faith in her. When Jurai finally snapped back to reality, she realized that she was sprinting like a madman and panting.

_What the hell am I doing,_ she thought.

_Something you always wished you could do. Take control of the situation and save those that are precious to you._

Two guards appeared in front of her, commanding that she turn back. Without warning, her nails dug into her skin, tearing at her flesh as she charged towards them. A long blade extended from her wounds, taking hold of the weapon as she slashed upwards, creating a diagonal gash on one of the guard's chest, before spinning and plunging the blade through the other man's throat. Again, the blade was worn like the dagger she tried to create to assault Tamaki, and dispersed as quickly as it was formed.

_I can't keep this up, not like this…_she thought before picking up speed. Another guard charged from the left. Without hesitation, she grabbed his arm, swinging him into the wall. Slamming her forearm against the back of his neck and painfully bent his arm behind him. The bottom of her foot collided into his calf, knocking him down with ease. A shot was fired, but to her surprise she was unharmed. The blood from her wounds encasing her cranium with a hawk shaped helmet before vanishing.

Pure adrenaline rush driving her to lunge towards her attacker and delivering a devastating blow to his abdomen. Instantly, pain rippled from her wrist to her elbow along with the sound of an audible crack, though she was uncertain of whether it was her furthering her injury or cracking her pursuer's ribcage. Unbelievable amount of pressure formed in her arm as it throbbed from the impact. Jurai made a sharp left as she darted down the corridors, muscles flaring from aggressive actions. One of the guards appeared pointing an air taser at the frantic woman as she ducked underneath him, sliding on the right side of her body then propelling herself off the ground. With one fluid motion, her leg swept counter-clockwise and knocked the startled guard off his feet. She disarmed him, forcefully removing his weapon before delivering a shock to incapacitate him.

She towered over the unconscious male, wiping away sweat with the back of her hand and pondered her purpose for causing such a ruckus. After planting her back against the wall, she tardily descended, index finger placed over the trigger. From her peripheral vision, she could have sworn that there was something nearby. Someone was watching her movements and clumsy takedowns. Hastily, she jumped to her feet.

"I know you're there," Jurai announced, but was caught off guard when a short teenage girl emerged. Her slender frame was clasped in a white body suit, with red swirls. Ruby red optics latching on the older female, with her hands pressed against her lips. Pale skin flushed from her previous activities and snow white hair clinging to her sweaty flesh.

"Are you friend or foe," the girl inquired, blinking several times as she waited for a response.

Jurai shifted uncomfortably, since she was not aware of whom this girl might be. Usually, a single thread would piece together and establish a link to multiple encounters made, but nothing. For once her conscience was silent and could not recall ever seeing this individual. Not once..

"That all depends. Are you going to stop me from going to the arena?"

The girl shook her head in protest as she advanced over to the woman, head tilted up in order to make eye contact with her older counterpart.

"Wow, you're tall," she beamed. "Are you an amazon?"

"…No, I'm just…no one in particular."

"Do you have a name?"

"Jurai," she responded. "What's yours?"

"Shiro," the girl exclaimed, "but before Shiro saw you she was Aceman!"

"Aceman, you mean that old anime?" She paused before admitting, "I used to watch that show all the time when I was younger…hey, why Aceman?"

"Shiro came to save the day…those mean people took Ganta away and brought him down here; this place is scary. Shiro doesn't think Ganta would want to stay here."

"You know Ganta?"

"Yeah, we're friends. Shiro always saves Ganta."

"Um, you're right Shiro. This place is very scary…Ganta might have gotten into some trouble; they took him to another area. I'm trying to help him get out of the trouble he's in.

Shiro tilted her head to the side as she listened then gave a slight nod.

"Then, we have to help him. Aceman and amazon girl will save the day! Come, this way!" Shiro said while rushing off.

There was an odd air about this girl. Jurai couldn't explain it. Though it was based off a gut feeling, something told her that Shiro must have fought through a series of guards before reaching her. After all, their numbers were lacking and they hardly put up a fight.

_This is it,_ she thought as the spotlight shone brightly down on the participants of tonight's Carnival Corpse. Spectators placed bets on the possible winner. Frustrated squalls echoed from one of the viewers' as the battle came to a close. Ganta geared his head back smashing his forehead against Minatsuki's. It was almost comical, considering she took advantage of Yō's interference.

On the far right a vent was kicked out, allowing both Shiro and Jurai to slip in. They caught glimpse of the last few minutes of the battle, utterly stunned by the way Ganta handled himself. Despite his frail and small stature, he was capable of fending off Minatsuki. From the view, Jurai was able to recall a few trials she was forced to endure. Flashes of gruesome images, all the lives claimed by her bare hands. Memories she wish she could simply toss away.

"What's wrong?" Shiro asked.

Jurai hesitated. She sifted through her head in order to formulate a coherent sentence without her appearing to be a bumbling idiot. "It's nothing…"

"Amazon girl," Shiro whined. "He's right there."

"Go to him," she muttered.

Shiro gave her a questioning look before nodding in response. Without delay, she rushed towards the arena, darkness engulfing her from sight as she advanced towards the stage.

The sound of footsteps echoing caught her attention and readying weapons.

_He's stronger than you think,_ her conscience stated as she raised her hands above her head. Three of the guards hastily apprehended her. Among them stood Ortega with a satisfied grin plastered on her visage. In her dainty right hand was Jurai's salvation from all of the alarming thoughts; a syringe filled with idyllic lethargy and promising a gratifying escape.


End file.
